


Bombshells

by Chess_Blackfyre



Series: Adventures of the Savage Scarlet Hulk [7]
Category: Marvel, Marvel's Avengers (Video Game), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, F/M, Marvel Cameos, Scarlet Hulk AU, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26329402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chess_Blackfyre/pseuds/Chess_Blackfyre
Summary: Darcy Lewis, like so many people, can divide her life into Before and After A-Day.Before, she was a perfectly normal person with an amazing best friend, a boyfriend she adored, and job that did little to alleviate her small mountain of student loan debt. (Her boyfriend just so happened to be Steve Rogers aka Captain America but details, details.)After. Well. Her boyfriend was dead, the Avengers were disbanded, people started randomly developing superpowers and a corporate nightmare was actively taking over the country.Darcy really wished she could go back to student loans being her biggest problem.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis & Jennifer Walters, Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, Jane Foster & Darcy Lewis
Series: Adventures of the Savage Scarlet Hulk [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/305976
Comments: 62
Kudos: 52





	1. A Ship and a Cocoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I honestly thought that I would never find inspiration for the Scarlet Hulk series again. It was one of my first big fanfics, and it still has a place in my heart, but to be honest I got sick of the MCU and lost all inspiration for writing stuff for it
> 
> But, as they say, once I thought I was out they PULLED ME BACK IN! I hope I wrote this well enough that you don't need to have played the game (or spent hours watching the in-game story cutscenes like I did on Youtube) to understand what's happening.
> 
> So, in other words enjoy!
> 
> Warnings this chapter for mentions of vomiting and concussions

Darcy Lewis, like so many people after A-Day, can divide her life into Before and After.

Before, she was a perfectly normal person with an amazing best friend, a boyfriend she adored, and a job that she loved despite how little it did to alleviate her small mountain of student loans. Her boyfriend just so happened to be Steve Rogers aka Captain America but eh, semantics.

(To make a long story short, an enterprising new hire to _The Daily Bugle_ met a charming blonde named Steve who had a cute smile, most of an art degree and a motorcycle. The rest, as they say, is history.)

After. Well. Her boyfriend was dead, the Avengers were disbanded, people started randomly developing superpowers and a corporate nightmare was actively taking over the country.

Darcy really wished she could go back to student loans being her biggest problem.

* * *

**_The Day in Question…_ **

Avengers Day was turning out to be the unholy offspring of Comic-Con, but Darcy Lewis strangely found herself enjoying it. She liked seeing the kids here with their parents, who would roll their eyes but were probably just as excited at the prospect of seeing the Avengers as the little ones were. She liked the obnoxious balloon arches, the airshows, and, yes, even the cheese ball ‘Hulk Smash’ test your strength machine. Which she may have used...once. Hey, no one said being on assignment meant all fun was forbidden.

There was a girl with a Captain Marvel shirt and a VIP pass in line behind her. Darcy shot her a thumbs up after she tried her own hand at a ‘smash’.

She was making her way up to the VIP area when her phone rang. Darcy smiled when she looked at the caller ID. “Ahoy, ahoy.”

A familiar and delightful chuckle answered. “You do know I’m not a sailor, right?”

“I’ll have you know that was what Alexander Graham Bell would use to answer the telephone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“If anything I’m appealing to your old-timey ways.”

“And how old do you think that is, exactly?”

“Hm, so many old man or cradle robbing jokes, so little time,” Darcy took the elevator up to the VIP balcony. “But seriously though, has something happened?”

“No, no,” he was quick to assure. “Everything’s right on schedule. I just wanted to check in, see how you’re doing. “

“Well,” Darcy settled in against the back wall. She’d hate to block any kids view of the Avengers, especially since she so regularly got to see them up close. “Nothing much. Looked at the different showcases, talked to some of the kids and parents from the writing competition, watched my sort-of boss get brushed off by Fury. So, that was kind of fun.”

Phil Sheldon was a good man and an excellent journalist, but Darcy had spent enough of her early days fetching him coffee to not enjoy the sight, just a bit. 

“Bold. What did he ask about?”

Darcy saw a few more parents and kids come up to the balcony, flashing a quick smile and nod at the ones she’d interviewed. “The same thing his last three editorials have been on: this brand new Terrigen crystal reactor.” Stepping away to a worse view so others could take her spot, the journalist pitched her voice lower so as to not be overheard. “Although, you have to admit: ‘hey we found this brand-new mysterious energy source and am going to use it to power our brand new, very large, very crash-able ship. It’ll work out _trust us_ ’ isn’t exactly reassuring.”

A weighty pause. “Darcy, I know that Tony comes off a bit…”

“Flashy? Narcissistic? Incapable of dealing with Actual Human Emotions?” She’d only needed two conversations with the man to figure that one out. Not to mention her poor ipod.

“I was going to say arrogant. But, he’s one of the smartest guys I know, and I trust him. If he says it’s safe, then I believe it’s safe.”

While that wasn’t the biggest reassurance either, Steve Rogers had more than earned Darcy’s trust. What she could do but give it back in return? That felt like how real adult relationships worked.

"Okay. Fine. Changing topics entirely, how about after you get done waving at crowds and kissing babies, we can head back to my place. I'll order takeout, and we can binge Lord of the Rings. Extended editions." Steve had enjoyed _The Hobbit_ back in the day, and had just finished up reading the rest of Tolkein’s works, including _The Silmarillion._

"You drive a hard bargain, Lewis. It's a date."

"Alright, see you tonight. Love you."

"Love you too.”

This was not the first time that either of them have said that. But Darcy’s stomach still did that happy little clench whenever they did. She hoped that never went away.

* * *

Steve hung up and noticed Natasha nearby, smiling at him knowingly. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Really? Because you look like the spider that swallowed the fly.”

“Shouldn’t it be ‘the cat that swallowed the canary’?”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “No one seems to be appreciating my jokes today.” They started walking towards the staging area. While this whole Avengers Day thing was a bit too close to his time in the USO for comfort, he found himself in a surprisingly good mood.

Her face naturally shifted into something a bit less know-it-all. “So, big date tonight?”

“A quiet night in,” after a day like today, it sounded absolutely perfect.

“I’m glad,” Natasha observed. Her tone was casual but he could tell she meant it. “After everything...you deserve to be happy.”

“Thank you. And Darcy…” he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the spirited, clever, amazing woman life saw fit to throw into his path. “I can only hope I make her happy, too.”

A beat. Nat bumped his shoulder with hers as she started walking. “C’mon, all this sappiness is making me nauseous.”

* * *

Darcy doesn’t understand what she’s looking at. Well, that’s not accurate. She understands that an explosion just happened. She understands that the Chimera is falling into the bay. She understands that is a categorically Bad thing.

Her head hurts. Someone had knocked her to the ground during the evacuation. Someone else had helped her back up. Or maybe it was the same person? A lot of things were...weird. Right now. The world has that fuzzy, not-quite-real blanket over it like it has like on the rare times she’s sampled edibles. Or the not so rare times in college when she had to stay up until 3am to finish something. But. Weird.

She watches the ship as it falls. She understands that the Chimera is crashing into the San Francisco Bay.

But at the same time, she doesn’t understand. The Avengers--the Avengers were here. Captain A-- _Steve_ was here. There. Somewhere. In all of this mess. Steve and Iron Man and Thor and Black Widow and--and--

They were the Good Guys, full capitals. They were supposed to save the day.

* * *

“George!” Oh thank God he was still alive. “We have to shut down the reactor. It’s pulling us towards that heat signature!”

“I’ve tried but there’s no way to disengage the crystal!”

Steve looked at the reactor core. He thought of the potential of the explosion. He thought of the possible trajectories of the crashing ship. He thought of Darcy. He thought of the heat signature and the destruction it was already causing on its way here. He thought of all the people in San Francisco. He thought of the people at the festival. He thought of Darcy. He thought of the evacuation ships. He thought about his mother’s wedding ring and the oh so fragile plans he’d started to make.

He looked back down at the control panel.

A trolley was hurtling down the tracks. Five people tied to one track, only one person to the other. The track switch right in front of him.

Dark hair. The way her eyes crinkle when she laughs. _I love you._

Steve grips the handle of his shield.

“Then get out. And seal the door!”

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry._

* * *

Jane was the one who found her first. The doctor was helping to triage incoming wounded. She also nearly tackled Darcy to the ground when she nearly spotted her.

“You scared me,” she squeezed Darcy. Tighter than the average hug. “I--I thought--”

Darcy patted her friend on the back, and took a step back. “Nah, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” But then that was when her body decided to be a bitch and disagree with her. Darcy puked. All over Jane’s shoes. And hers. It was embarrassing and she was so so sorry and she promised to buy her new ones--

“Darcy, _Darcy,”_ the doctor gently guides her off to the side. “It’s okay, I have other shoes.” Sits her down. Sitting is good right now. “Plus, right now, you probably have a concussion. Can’t exactly hold anything against you right now.”

“Thansks Jane,” Darcy was suddenly feeling very, very, tired. “You’re the best.”

Jane confirms that she does, in fact, have a concussion. Dr. Jane Foster also has many, many other people she needs to help, so she can’t stay with Darcy. But she’s always been a good multitasker.

Sitting amongst the ‘least concern’ people are a man and a girl wearing a Captain Marvel shirt. Jane goes and speaks with them, voice low. Darcy hears her anyway.

“I’m sorry, but my friend--this woman has a concussion. Could you stay with her? Make sure she doesn’t fall asleep?”

“Of course, doctor.”

“My name is Yusuf Khan, this is my daughter Kamala.”

“Hi,” the girl with the star shirt peeps up. She has a bandage on her cheek and his holding tight to her father’s hand. Darcy wished she could do the same.

“Pleased to meet you. Darcy Lewis,” she slurs, just a little bit. Scoots over. “Sit down, if you want.” They do, carefully. 

“So where--” she breaths. Forces down the rolling in her gut that was trying to make its way up her throat. Puking makes a bad first impression. “So do you live in the area or did you travel?”

  
“We flew in from Jersey City,” he explains, at least trying for a casual tone. “Kamala won her story contest.” Maybe, if Darcy closes her eyes, she can pretend that this is someplace else. Sometime else. Just. Having a friendly 

“I’m from Wisconsin. I moved here for work.” She looks out over San Francisco. What she could see of it was currently smoking. “I think...I may have to move again.”

Mr. Khan nodded. “I’m inclined to agree.”

Whatever they would have said next was interrupted by the incessant whittling of helicopters. Other vehicles arriving to deliver wounded. By the time the noise stops, the three have fallen into silence.

She looks at the city. Back at the people in the Triage area. Back to Yusuf and Kamala Khan. Back to that seagull flying overhead. A lot of people had died today, she could already tell.

“Sh’ma yisrael adonai eloheinu adopt echad…” she pauses, trying to remember. Her head was still fuzzy but she should definitely still remember this. The seagull did a figure eight in the sky. “Baruch shem k’vod malchuto l’olam va’ed.”

Another beat of silence. “What did you say?”

“Kamala.”

“I was praying,” Darcy glances back up at the bird. There was a hot feeling in the back of her throat again. “It felt...” She drops her head between her knees. “I feel like I’m going to throw up. Sorry.”

She hears a shuffling. Probably stepping away from the potential splash zone.

“It is no problem, miss.”

She doesn’t end up throwing up. But dry heaving isn’t exactly better.

It feels like hours before she can sit herself upright again. Yusuf hands her a bottle of water. Was someone handing them out? She hadn’t noticed. Kamala takes a big swig of hers while Darcy sips. Her mouth is very grateful.

“So, Kamala...you--” head still fuzzy. Words not going. “Story competition. Could you tell me...about your story?”

The girl brightens up at that. She starts chatting away about sewer monsters and Avengers and super moves. It’s very nice, although Darcy found that she couldn’t actually remember anything the girl had actually said. Apparently grade two concussions will do that to you.

* * *

Thor was the one who told her. 

By that point, Darcy’s concussion had been seen by another doctor, and it was safe for her to go home. Except, she didn’t have a home, and it was still up in the air if Darcy would be able to go back to her apartment to clear out her things, or if there would even be an apartment left for her to clear out.

Jane, amazing human being that she was, had offered Darcy to stay at her place. Her place was in Concord, which was a half hour out of the city and the distance appeared to have spared it from the damage.

She wondered how Steve was doing. What happened, all those people...it couldn’t have been easy. Darcy could already tell it wasn’t going to be easy on her, and she wasn’t even vaguely responsible for anyone’s life today. She’d tried calling him, letting him know she was okay, but the call hadn’t gone through. Darcy told herself that he was probably busy, and wouldn’t recognize Jane’s number anyway.

The journalist had lost her phone somewhere in the chaos, which was the only thing that appeased her mother, half a country away and half-convinced her daughter was dead until Jane called on Darcy’s behalf. Despite her daughter’s assurances, Elizabeth Lewis was going to fly out on the first place there. Or the first bus. Whatever came first.

Her bosses had been understanding, especially considering Darcy promised to send in her recollections of what had happened today--even with the caveat that she did have a concussion and wasn’t up for doing much but laying on the couch right now.

Jane had crashed on the loveseat next to her. After almost a day of non-stop trying to save people’s lives, it was bound to happen. Knowing her, she’d be up and right back at it as soon as she could tomorrow.

There was a knock at the door. Jane fidgeted in her sleep. Rising, Darcy shuffled her way across the living room and looked through the peephole.

A very bedraggled, very morose god of thunder was on the other side. He looked lost, and generally not very Thor-like.

“He-ey,” Darcy smiled, and carefully opened the door. The world had mostly stopped being fuzzy. “God of muscles, how goes it?”

“Darcy, I--“You are injured.”

“Ah, just a little...minor brain injury.” She rubs a hand over her face and waves him into the house. “But nothing a little R&R can’t fix.”

Jane sits up, stretching and waking up. Registering her godly sort-of-boyfriend now in her living room. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hello, Jane. It is good to see you--see both of you well.” He says that, but it’s clear something is bothering him. “Darcy, I must confess. Something has...happened to your consort.”

‘Consort’ being Thor’s old-timey term for ‘boyfriend’/girlfriend, her brain immediately jumps to steve.

“What’s happened? Did--is he hurt?” What hospital would they have taken him to? Stubborn, stupid man probably knew he was injured for awhile but held off getting treatment because there were others who’d needed it more.

Thor looks at her and she can see the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. A weight dragging him down. “The Captain was on the Chimera when it crashed into the bay. His body has not yet been recovered, but--” Wait, body? What? He looked at her with a sorrow even her fuzzy brain could interpret. “But we already know he has fallen. I am sorry, Darcy. I--we failed him. We failed all of you.”

But. He was Captain America. Survived in ice for seventy-something years. He _couldn’t_ just be...gone.

Right?

“I am sure he dines in Valhalla tonight.”

They had a date.

He had promised her a date.

Her throat tightens, and she heard someone start to cry. She can’t speak, and can barely breath. Jane gently pulls her into a hug. It took her longer than it should have to realize it was her.

* * *

**_One Month After…_ **

“Darcy?” Jane knocked on the door to the bathroom. No response.

Doctor Jane Foster, MD, was worried. She was worried about a lot of things, really, like global warming, the state of the American Healthcare system and the anti-vaccination movement, but right now she was much, _much_ more concerned about her friend.

She tried again. “Darcy, I know you’re in there.”

Yesterday had been Steve’s funeral. World leaders and Avengers amongst the thousands in attendance to mourn his passing. No one outside their circle knew about Steve and Darcy’s relationship (besides her mother, everyone in Darcy’s family thought Steve was just a graphic artist who happened to share the same name), and all agreed that this would be the worst time to make their relationship public. The media would swoop down and pick Darcy’s life apart like vultures. 

So they had sat in the rows behind, as if they were little more than passing friends. Just friends of Thor, after all. Why should they be given any more thought than the Howling Commandos’ grandchildren, when there was Iron Man and Black Widow to give the spotlight?

(Sharon Carter had been a kindness. She had stood up before the world and read Darcy’s eulogy. The words were hers, but the SHIELD agent presented them as excerpts from Peggy Carter’s journal.

“I don’t think Aunt Peggy would have minded,” she’d assured.)

Today, Darcy had gone to take a shower. Not an oddity itself, but it had been over an hour ago, and she could hear the water running.

Still no response. “Okay, I’m coming in!”

Jane knew she was probably overreacting. Hoped she was overreacting. But she was much, much more afraid of the bottle of painkillers in the medicine cabinet than she was seeing Darcy naked. There were very few times when hoping that you’d find your best friend crying in the shower was the best case scenario. This was one of those times.

Thor probably would have kicked down the door in a rush of concern for their friend. But Jane wasn’t wearing the right kind of shoes to do that, and furthermore, the inside doors to her house had the kind of locks that could be picked with a paperclip. 

Jane opened up the door. The first thing she noticed were the rugs. Blue, fluffy things. Standard bathroom rugs, really. They were now completely and utterly soaked. Most of the floor was covered in water.

The second thing she noticed was that the bathtub was overflowing. The third, and most important thing was _why_ it was overflowing, water obnoxiously sloshing onto the floor.

The shower sputtered as Jane’s brain did, trying to understand the large, green, slightly glowing, human-sized cocoon that was causing her bathroom to flood.

“What in the fu--”

* * *

On the other side of the country, the Khan family was having much the same quandry. That night after dinner, their youngest, Kamala, had started convulsing in pain, falling to the floor of the living room. The next thing they knew, a strange green _thing_ formed around her. There it had sat for the better part of an hour.

As Amir stood there, staring, all he could think about was if they should call the police, the hospital, or an imam. He could hear Ammi and Abu in the other room. They had already broken three kitchen knives trying to cut Kamala out of...whatever it was, and were now (very loudly) debating what they could possibly use to try next to free their daughter. They were starting to seriously consider a hammer.

**_crack_ **

Amir would deny it to his dying day, but when Kamala’s hand shot out of that cocoon--he screamed. Loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy, lying facedown on the bathroom floor naked and confused: “what in the fuck just happened?”
> 
> Jane Foster, trying and failing not to remember every bad sci-fi horror movie: “You’re asking me that?!”
> 
> Also, the prayer Darcy said was the Shema Yisrael. I am not Jewish so I hope that I used that prayer in the correct context and am 1000% ready to correct any error if I did.
> 
> As you can see, this has a different take on the Scarlet Hulk origin than I did in the main series, but I hope it's a take that you'll all enjoy. After all, this game is already a different universe from the MCU, so I feel confident playing around with things. For example, making Jane a medical doctor like in the comics.


	2. Three Phone Calls and a Slushie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monica Rappaccini knows an opportunity when she sees one, and Darcy Lewis almost enjoys being a pain in the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A digital cookie to the people who can spot the different cameos!

Steve Rogers was alive. Amazingly, impossibly alive. Only one person in the world knew that and Dr. Monica Rappaccini intended to keep it that way.

When her drones had been the one to pull his body from the wreckage, she thought it luck. When she realized he was still alive, a miracle, if she were the type to believe in such things. Then, she realized the opportunity before her.

Monica looked down at the bruised, battered, half-drowned and barely recognizable Captain Rogers and thought, perhaps it would be better for the world to think he was dead. So many things she could do with a comatose super-soldier...

But first, where to put him? A secure research hospital would do perfectly well at first, the same e one where Tarelton lay comatose. She wouldn’t even have to lie that much, just pass him off through the proper channels as another John Doe rescued in the recovery efforts--this one amazingly alive. A shave and a few well applied facial bandages, and most people would dismiss the similarities to the late Avenger as little more than coincidence or wishful thinking. 

A wealthy, anonymous good samaritan covered the cost of medical bills as an act of charity, putting the poor unknown man up in a private room. There Dr. Rappaccini could visit her good friend Tarleton in the hospital, collect samples from Rogers, and use her own privately funded lab downstairs—another generous gift—to research a way to use the later to cure the former. She knew the ruse couldn’t continue forever. Too many variables, too much of a risk of discovery. Rogers’ coma was natural for now, but she could tell it would only be a matter of time before the super soldier healed enough to regain consciousness.

Then as she was looking through the assets acquired from SHIELD, and a certain Project Ambrosia satellite among them.

Monica’s lips curled into a smile. Perfect.

Six months after John Doe’s admission, his name and identity were finally revealed. Simon Kirby had been a tourist from New York, seeing the sights in San Francisco. A private investigator hired by his family had managed to locate him to the hospital. The doctors and nurses were fairly skeptical at first, but the P.I. provided a copy of his driver’s license, birth certificate, and dental records to prove the match.

Mrs. Kirby flew in not a day later. Arriving at the hospital, she tearfully confirmed that yes, that was her missing husband, clinging to her sister’s hand for support. The secretary was quite the convincing actress, even if she didn’t entirely understand what this role was for. Monica made a mental note to give her a pay raise and a hefty holiday bonus.

Things went much more smoothly afterwards. The doctors were amazed by Simon’s progress so far, and were confident that he could be safely transferred to a hospital closer to home in New York. They assured Mrs. Kirby that it wouldn’t be long now until he regained consciousness.

“I can’t tell you how lucky he is, surviving something like A-Day. Even more so that he’s recovering so quickly.”

“Yes,” Monica agreed, “I can't tell you how blessed we feel right now.”

* * *

**_Four Years and Six Months After…_ **

“‘No comment’? Senator, Congress just passed a bill that grants the AIM corporation extrajudicial authority over the people of the United States, allowing them to detain citizens in privatized prisons with no government oversight and all you say is ‘no comment’?!” Darcy paced back and forth like a caged lion, and felt just as irate. 

Most of the other reporters in the bullpen were staring at her. Darcy was beyond caring. She’d taken one, _one_ little vacation to visit her family and _this_ is what she comes back to?

“Well, here’s a comment for you: You’d better think long and hard about the reelection chances of someone who’s carving up our democracy and serving it on a silver platter. Good day, senator.” Slamming the phone down back on its receiver with a particular relish, Darcy sat back down in her office chair. She felt, rather than saw, her co-worker’s eyes purposefully going back to their work. 

_The Daily Bugle_ was made famous by its bulldog of an editor-in-chief, J. Jonah Jameson, yet sometimes Darcy couldn’t help but think that the West Coast branch lacked the teeth.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

She looked at the photograph on her desk, a reminder of happier days.

Their backs were to the camera, both wearing baseball caps and holding each other’s hand. He was holding an overstuffed teddy bear under one arm, and she was halfway through her cotton candy. It was one photo of Steve that she felt comfortable bringing into an office building full of investigative journalists. Not to mention, one of the few belongings she’d managed to scavenge from her old apartment.

The photo was courtesy of a chronically paranoid Russian super spy who wanted to make sure Darcy wasn’t a plant, an assassin, or a freelancer looking for an exclusive on the Avengers. She’d texted it to Darcy the day after the date with a smiley face emoji. There was a moment she had wondered if it was some kind of threat, before Steve chuckled and told her it was Natasha’s way of giving approval.

_You’d tell me to keep fighting, wouldn’t you? Probably give that big ‘plant yourself like a tree’ speech that you could somehow recite without sounding like a total cheeseball._ Lord above, she missed him.

Sitting up in her chair, Darcy opened up her computer. There had been a rash of Inhuman disappearances in Chicago, and she hoped Detective Nelson would be willing to speak to her. In for a penny, in for a pound, and she was already in too deep and hopefully, too much of an annoyance to give up now.

* * *

“--I just don’t see what the big deal is. I was only being honest. You did raise me to be honest, right?” The bra was off, the sweatpants were on, and the official workday was done. Darcy had wanted to sit back and relax with some Jeopardy, but then a particular name popped up on her caller ID. One that she dare not send to voicemail. 

Even a few thousand miles away, Darcy could sense her mother’s lack of amusement. “Darcy, you all but accused your cousin of war crimes at the dinner table.” And hear it in her voice, obviously. Even at her worst, Elizabeth Lewis was an honest woman.

“No, I said he was complicit in a corporate takeover of our country. Completely different.”

“Marcus is a lawyer in the patent department.”

“I said what I said.” In her defense, Darcy had taken off her Adulting Pants when she’d gotten home, and didn’t feel up to putting them back on. Maturity was for other people right now.

A long pause. She was probably counting backwards from ten, and reminding herself of her daughter’s cuter, less mouthy days. “Darcy, I know you’re not the biggest fan of AIM--”

“Excuse me for being suspicious of people who have branded an entire section of the population ‘diseased’ and made themselves out to be the cure.” She apologized. “Oh sure we should just _ignore_ the gross civil rights violations. If we don’t see them, then they can’t possibly be happening.”

A resigned sigh, and she can clearly picture the crease in her brow. “I am _calling_ to make sure that the next time you come home, you won’t bite anyone else’s head off. I already got enough of an earful from your aunt Gloria to get this from you too.”

Rolling her eyes, Darcy glances over at the commercial for erectile dysfunction medication. “I’ll try harder to bury my head in the sand and ignore what’s going on around me.”

A terse goodbye and a cellphone she had to restrain herself from throwing across the room.

Another deep inhale. Darcy thought of puppies, hot cocoa, and slushies on hot summer days. Reminded herself that her mother was a human being, just as limited by her own perspective as everyone else was. And exhale.

She flipped on the light in her pantry. The lightbulb flickered, but quickly went dark. _Crap._ Adding that to her mental to-do list, Darcy held up her right arm, breathed, and concentrated.

A faint yellow light emanated in the small space, illuminating the different boxes and soup cans. Darcy wasn’t in the mood to make anything too complicated. She grabbed the box of poptarts and cheerios, and let her light die down. The circles of light on her arm returned to their normal skin color. Even after four plus years, Darcy was still amazed that the skin didn’t feel any different.

Bioluminescence, Jane called it. Darcy just called it next to useless. Like, sure, some twist of fate or genetics landed her and others like her with a condition that had her labeled a diseased menace that needed to be dealt with. It could have at least balanced the scales a bit by giving her something better, like super-strength or flight.

She loaded the raspberry pop tarts into the toaster, and grabbed milk from the fridge. 

Sure, yeah, it had it’s occasional uses. And the glowing patterns on her skin--lines of perfectly aligned circles starting at her cheekbones, going down her neck, arms, chest, legs--were actually kind of pretty to look at. But Darcy still would have preferred something like telekinesis, if only to live out her childhood fantasies of being a Jedi.

She watched the contestants answer questions about politics, art and history. Normally about this time Darcy would start to brush her teeth and get ready for bed, but she was waiting to hear back from one of her contacts.

Darcy glanced at her phone. She’d been texting with Jane on and off through most of the day. Jane was off on a medical conference in San Fernando this weekend. Darcy sent off a text teasingly asking if there were any other hot doctors at the convention. Jane more than deserved some nice, casual weekend sex if she so desired it.

She and Thor had split up a few months after A-Day. Surprisingly amicable, and Darcy was sure that they could have all remained friends if Thor was still talking to them. Or, anyone on Earth, really. The prince had gone off to ‘reflect on his failings’. Darcy didn’t blame him. She also wouldn’t be surprised if, considering his sense of time compared to theirs, they didn’t see him again for another decade or two.

Ugh. She changed the channel to some nature documentary. Darcy knew herself than to let her mind wander too close to Avengers-related topics.

Nutrients consumed, boxes put back in the pantry and bowl placed in the dishwasher, Darcy huffed and tapped her fingers on the counter. 

“I feel like a slushie.”

* * *

The twenty-four hour convenience store had been the savior of Darcy’s undergraduate years. Now, as an adult who was craving something icy, blue, and totally bad for her long after dark out, 7/11 had once again come to save the day. There was one less than three blocks from her apartment, and she felt safe enough to walk it alone. She still had her trusty taser slipped into the front pocket of her sweatshirt, right next to her wallet and keys.

Darcy was just topping off at the self-serve slushie station when she got the call she’d really been looking forward to.

“Jen! How’s my favorite lawyer?” Favorite, because Jennifer Walters, esquire was currently filing a huge lawsuit against AIM that had real teeth to it. Technically she specialized in criminal law, but any port in a storm. They met through a friend of a friend, and Darcy was more than happy to use her _Daily Bugle_ connections to help her however she could.

“The judge threw out the case.”

Darcy’s blood went colder than her slushie. “I’m sorry, _what_?”

“I couldn’t believe it either. Claimed he had no choice due to ‘lack of credible evidence’.”

Was the entire universe conspiring to piss her off the day, or just the United States government? “Mr. Pertuz’s wife and son were kidnapped from their homes by AIM robots, and forced to get into a vehicle practically at gunpoint. He calls eyewitness testimony and footage recorded by a neighbor a ‘lack of evidence’?!”

“Preaching to the choir. Something about AIM’s robotic design being well known enough to have easily been copied. The corporate lawyer even had the balls to thank me for bringing this ‘gross copyright infringement’ to their attention. Look, the fight’s not over, and there’s definitely enough for an appeal. I’ll take this all the way to the Supreme Court if I have to.”

Puppies. Kittens. Steve’s ass in those tight swim trunks. “I certainly wouldn’t bet against you.” Darcy glanced out the glass doors of the convenience story to the glowing yellow eyesore AIM called advertising. “But still, be wary. I’ve read enough John Grisham novels to know this is the part where the corrupt, powerful corporation tries to get rid of the spunky young heroes.”

“So you’re Julia Roberts in _The Pelican Brief_?”

“No, you’re Julia Roberts. I’m the dashing reporter played by Denzel Washington.” Darcy smiled at the cashier and stuffed the change into her pocket. “Just promise me you’ll keep an eye out, okay?”

“The same goes for you too, you know.”

Darcy smiled, despite herself. This would be the point where she should say something like ‘I survived A-Day, they don’t scare me’. But that would be a lie. Telling one beautiful lawyer goodbye and disconnecting the call, the journalist took her first sip of the sweet, sugary, completely horrible for her goodness.

She was stopped halfway back to her apartment building. An AIM-bot called out: “Halt, citizen” and Darcy was too alone to pretend it could be referring to anyone else.

The familiar faceplate marched up to her. “An Inhuman has been detected in the vicinity.” _Fuck._ “In accordance with Inhuman Protocol Section 3 Subsection 8.2, please remain still while we complete our scan.”

Oh _double_ **_fuck_ **.

Raspberry blue slushie splattered on the ground, and Darcy Lewis never made it home that night.

Two days later, her missing poster would be added to the memorial. One of many.

* * *

A sketch of Darcy's bioluminescent patterns, by me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, DUH!
> 
> Do you hate me :)?
> 
> If you have any thoughts, questions, concerns, or just want to scream your feelings at me, comment bellow and let me know!


	3. A Series of Horrible Happenings and Four Prisoners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy gets some new (involuntary) roommates, and has some late night fantasies. No, not those kinds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cameos in the last chapter:
> 
> The easiest one to spot was the lovely Jennifer Walters, aka She-Hulk aka my first female crush before I knew I was into girls and probably the reason I started this whole 'Scarlet Hulk' series in the first place.
> 
> Detective Nelson in Chicago is a reference to Tigra, aka Greer Nelson’s husband, William Nelson. Greer herself worked as a lab assistant before becoming a feline superhero.
> 
> Simon Kirby is a reference Captain America’s creators, Joe Simon and Jack Kirby
> 
> Darcy's mother, Elizabeth, is a Pride and Prejudice reference. You know, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet!
> 
> Let's see who can spot the cameos in this chapter!
> 
> Also, warnings for non-graphic human experimentation and mentions of electrocution. Non-graphic fantasies of violence as well.

When Darcy was nineteen, she’d gotten her wisdom teeth removed. A completely normal procedure that had gone swimmingly, allowing her a good three days of staying in bed eating pudding and jello while her mother kept a strict eye on the pain medication. But, that wasn’t the part that had always stuck with her. That was the first time Darcy had ever been under anesthesia. 

The anaesthesiologist put the needle in her arm, and asked Darcy to start counting backwards from one hundred. The teenager obliged, making it to ninety two or ninety three when suddenly, she found herself staring at her own closed eyelids. When she opened them, she was waiting in post-op, and nothing to connect the two points. Didn’t even remember falling unconscious. Perhaps it was the combination of pain meds and coming off the anesthesia, but she’d always been weirded out by that.

Waking up at the AIM facility felt pretty similar.

One moment, Darcy was trying to sprint away from the adaptoids, futile as she suspected it would be. The next, she wakes up in a glass box wearing an orange jumpsuit. She doubted these guys would be so liberal with the pudding and jello. 

As she stirred and stretched, there was movement at the corner of her eye. Someone else was in the room with her, on the other side of the glass.

Long dark hair pulled back into a pony tail, a white and black lab coat with AIM logos as the shoulders. Dr. Monica Rappaccini was focused on something on her tablet, but looked up when she noticed Darcy moving.

“Miss Lewis,” she cooly greeted, deigning to give the Inhuman her attention. “It’s been awhile.”

“Avengers compound Christmas party.” She looked around. Sterile. Her orange jumpsuit was the most colorful thing in the room. Darcy clocked the doors and the two AIM bots on standby.

“Where the hell am I?” It wasn’t any prison cell she’d ever seen before, four glass walls with a metal or plastic frame. No air holes, and no exits as far as Darcy could see.

“Somewhere safe, a place where we can help you, if you’ll let us.”

“Right. Because kidnapping me and sticking a shock collar on is just so helpful.” She gestured to the new piece of jewelry. 

“It’s a way for us to monitor your vital signs.” Interesting. Didn’t say no.

“Maybe you can start helping by letting me out of here.” Looking down, she sees that the glass slides up from the floor. Great. If the seams were airtight, that means that there had to be a mechanism to make sure she didn’t suffocate in here. Ventilation or something. Darcy looked down again, and noticed several drain-like fixtures on the floor in a few spots.

Monica taps at her device. “Unfortunately, no. You need to be kept here for other’s safety, and your own. AIM knows you can’t help being dangerous, and we don’t blame you for it.” 

Still keeping to the pretenses then. Darcy decides to let herself be petty and glows. Full body, the light shining bright as she could muster. Monica takes a half-step back and Darcy savors making her flinch. The flesh around her neck starts to tingle--a warning, maybe? 

Seconds pass and nothing else happens. Monica raises an eyebrow. Darcy sighs and stops bluffing. “Dangerous to who exactly? Moths? Because that little light show is all I can do.”

The scientist blinks, glances down at her tablet and back at Darcy. “I doubt it’s that simple.”

Indulging her inner teenager, she crosses her arms and shrugs. “There’s more biology involved I guess. Luciferins and specialized proteins, and stuff. I was never very good at science. I can glow in the dark. It’s not exactly complicated.”

A considering hum, and Monica taps at something on her tablet. Something mechanical and ominous looking dropped down from the ceiling of the box. It was shaped sort of like one of those robot-arm things you’d see in automated factories, colored yellow and black, had a lens-like nob at the end and was pointed right at her. The tip was glowing in a way Darcy didn’t like.

Oh shit. Ducking her head behind her arms, Darcy just hoped it wouldn’t hurt too bad.

A warmth against her hands, her cheek. Focused, like a sunbeam through a window. But not painful. But--nothing.

Darcy blinked away sunspots and stared at her hands. Also nothing.

“How do you feel?”

“...confused?” Darcy glanced over at the thing retracting back into the ceiling and then back at Rappaccini. “I mean, the heck was that?” Was this some sort of psychological torture thing? Freak her out but not actually hurt her until the point that they actually would.

“A high-powered laser normally used to cut sheet metal.”

“And you pointed it  _ at my face?!” _

Something like a smile tugs at Monica’s lips, and she turns over her tablet, pressing the screen against the glass. Darcy recognizes human cells and some sort of tracking chart, but has no idea what it is she’s looking at.

“The reason you can glow--the reason you just shrugged off an electric shock that has grown men passing out and a laser that should have at least left you with a few burns--is because your body can  _ absorb _ energy.”

“The fu--” something burning slams into her back. She yelps, and turns to see some sort of energy weapon held by an AIM bot pointed at her.

“It will be interesting to see what kinds of limits your abilities have, if any,” Monica spun on her heel and started making her way towards the door. “Adjust the prototype to intensity setting two.”

“Fucking shi— **_ack!_ ** ”

Things hadn’t gotten better after that. For the next hour or so, Darcy had been methodically shot with the ‘prototype’ just to see how her body reacted. Setting one burned, but setting two felt like she was being burned and punched in the gut at the same time. Setting three was when they finally stopped, after Darcy curled up into a ball and refused to move, not even having bruises or burns to show how much pain she was in. 

The AIM bots had dragged her to her feet, and strapped her to a gurney. It was hard to get a sense of direction staring at the ceiling, and she just ended up in another box anyway, this one having three actual walls, with only one front facing glass one, this one with air holes. She vaguely registers other cells and other people in those cells, but once more her brain was too fuzzy to really register it.

They deposited her on the cot, and exited the cell. The best time to make a break for it would have been while the robots were filing out, before the glass partition sealed her into the new hamster cage. But honestly, Darcy could barely go three rounds with a fruit fly at that stage, let alone three robots. She was out the minute her head hit the pillow.

* * *

**_“All Inhumans, please standby. Lunch will be served in five minutes.”_ **

_ That is the weirdest alarm I have ever heard.  _ Turning over on her bed, Darcy reached for her alarm clock. She’d probably accidentally turned the knob, switching it from the classic rock station to...whatever that was.

Her hand found only air, and then cold linoleum. Even more confused than before, the journalist turned her head and noticed--

Oh. Right. AIM.

Lying her head back, Darcy ran a hand over her face--they’d taken her glasses. Of course they’d taken her glasses. She placed both hands over her face, and tried her best not to scream.

Kittens. Jumping off the swing when it was really high. Ice cream. Steve’s face at the Darth Vader reveal in  _ Empire Strikes Back.  _

Convincing herself to get out of bed was easy after that. Besides, time to take in her new surroundings.

The cell itself wasn’t too different from standard prison fare. About the size of her living room. Cot in the corner, toilet and sink attached to the wall. Toilet paper, thank God. It just had this whole white sterile vibe that was more than a touch creepy. 

Glancing out through the glass wall, there were three other cells in her line of sight with the same set up, arranged in a semi-circular formation so they could all see each other. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living.”

About ten feet away across from her was another cell, and another person in that cell. A beautiful woman with umber, reddish-brown skin and dark kinky-curly hair. She only seemed to be a few years younger than Darcy. She also appeared to have a pair of dragon-like wings growing from her back, and a long spiked tail. Both were a dark red color. “Welcome to the land of the living.”

Darcy had to support her weight on the glass, and gave a smile that felt more of a grimace. “Hey yourself. I’m Darcy.” 

Wings and tail looked her up and down. The cell to the left of hers was a young guy around the same age, mousy brown hair and a pale complexion. He was sitting on his cot, staring into space. “I’m Michelle, and the guy in the corner with the thousand yard stare is Ulysses.”

“Is he...okay?”

Michelle shrugged. “Are any of us?”

Before Darcy could decide on a pithy comment, an irritated voice came from the last cell in the block. “Could you keep it down? I’m trying to nap here.”

Michelle rolled her eyes, “And the ball of grump in the corner is Ember.” 

Darcy had to move to get a better angle on the last cell. Michelle was spot on. The blonde that scowled at them before pointedly turning over on her cot to face the wall didn’t look a day over nineteen.

“We can talk more after your nap.” Darcy certainly wouldn’t begrudge a little grumpiness in a place like this. If the kid had gone through Rappaccini’s experiments today as well...Darcy immediately hopped off that train of thought.

“Why bother,” dismissed the teenager. “She’s probably gonna croak on us too. We shouldn’t get attached.”

Darcy looked back to Michelle, still lowering her voice. “Do I want to know?”

The winged woman looked sad, then resigned over the course of a heartbeat. “The person who had your cell last? His name was Devon. Nice guy. Last week, the scientists in the tacky beekeeper suits took him away for experimentation, and he never came back.”

“So you think…”

In the corner of her eye, she could tell Ember was listening to their conversation. “The only way Inhumans get out of here is in a body bag.”

Suddenly, Ulysses’ head snapped up, and his gaze piercing right into Darcy. The journalist at once feels like a bug under a microscope and in the midst of someone’s crosshairs. The kid rises to his feet, and all but slams his body into the glass wall, catching himself in time.

“Trust the dancer,” he slapped his hands against the glass for emphasis, “you  _ need  _ to trust the dancer!”

“Uh, what?”

“Ugh, just shut it!”

“She wants to help, so trust the dancer!” He looked frantic, desperate to get his message across. 

Michelle sighs, massaging her temple. “I don’t know. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, really. Just ride it out, it’ll be over in a sec.”

True to her word, Ulysses stops, breaking out of whatever spell he’d been in. He startled back from the glass.

“What?” He blinked, only glancing at Darcy before turning to Michelle. “What...what did I say this time?”

The tail twitched back and forth. “Uh, something about a dancer? That we should trust ‘her’?”

“Oh,” he turns and startles again at seeing Darcy, seeming to have forgotten their new roommate. “You’re--shorter than I expected.”

Choosing to breeze past whatever the heck that was, Darcy Lewis had just enough time to introduce herself before there were more AIM-bots, and these ones carrying their so-called ‘lunch’.

So called because instead of beans, oatmeal, or anything else the journalist vaguely assumed would be included in a prison meal, they got--

“Uh, what is this?” She held up the poptart sized foil packet by the corner. It had been the only thing included on the trays, along with the AIM-issue bottled water.

“Nutrient blocks,” Ulysses explained, dutifully breaking it in half and nibbling.

Darcy followed suit. It tasted vaguely fruity. Like someone who had the taste of an apple described to them once, by someone else who was drunk. She looked up in disbelief, but everyone else was dutifully chowing down.

“Welcome to Cell Block B,” Michelle deadpanned.

Darcy closed her eyes and pretended she was eating a stale pop tart. The first of many.

* * *

Days passed by one after the other, all with a routine. In the morning, a fresh uniform was presented at their doors, and the entire cell block would try their best not to make eye contact as they changed clothes. They’d deposit yesterday’s orange jumpsuits into the laundry chutes, and await the arrival of breakfast.

Darcy had found that most meals here came in various flavors of nutrient paste with occasional fruits and vegetables for variety, and always eaten in one’s cells. She’d have to rank the strawberry flavored paste at the top of the list, and the chicken flavored paste at the bottom. The Inhumans would then brush their teeth and perform other hygiene-related activities before morning roll call. ‘Heads up’ had become their cell block’s warning for one of them needing to use the toilet. Darcy found it was very helpful to stare at the corner of her own cell and pretend that there wasn’t someone on the other side of the security cameras watching her pee. 

After roll call, there was twenty minutes of morning exercise, a relished chance to step out of their cells to stretch and walk around.

After this would be the experiments. Well, sometimes. There didn’t appear to be a set schedule or rotation for whose turn it was to play lab rat. That was probably on purpose, to keep them on their guard. Harder to make plans that way. It was also probably why Darcy hadn’t seen a single clock outside the laboratories.

AIM’s experiments with her powers were a mixed bag. At first they wanted to see how much electricity they could run through her system, zapping her with whatever was on hand. Testing equipment on her ranging from tasers that tickled to strapping her into an electric chair. Darcy’s body had lit up like the Las Vegas strip after that one, and she’d felt like she’d guzzled a cup of coffee. When that stopped being fun, they started exposing her to various other energy sources just to see what happened. Gamma energy made her feel like she’d done an espresso shot. Plutonium, Americium, Cesium and Uranium made her feel like she’d filled a venti cup of espresso shots with whip cream on top. Darcy hadn’t taken a science class since freshman chemistry, but even she knew that couldn’t be good. So far so fine, but she hoped that fine wasn’t just the precursor to a serious case of cancer.

Those who did not have eager scientists waiting to poke and prod them for the day would be brought to the recreation area. A small library with a few tables and folding chairs, decks of cards, notebooks, markers and adult coloring books. Of course, two AIM bots at the door, ready to respond to any move.

Either way, after a few hours the Inhumans would be led back to their cells for lunch. Whether you’d continue with the morning activities into the afternoon, or would switch from one area or the other really depended on the day. Another way to keep them off their guard.

Once there, Darcy split her time between card games, conversation, and reading. She was making her way through the original  _ Frankenstein.  _ The last time Darcy had ever read that was when she’d skimmed the sparknotes for English class in high school. Next to it was  _ The Count of Monte Cristo.  _ She vaguely remembered a prison break happening in that book, and with how closely AIM was watching them...well, is it really paranoia when you  _ know _ someone’s out to get you? 

After a few more hours, they’d be led back to their cells for supper, social time, evening roll call, and eventual lights out. There’d also be the opportunity for shower time, should they ask for it. Basically the one other bit of choice allowed them in this miserable hell hole. Ulysses liked to take one almost every day, Darcy every other day. Ember had onced managed to go a whole five before the AIM bots all but frogmarched her to the showers. Apparently her teenage funk was starting to really stink up the place. That had been the point, based on the teenager’s smug expression.

It was the nights Darcy hated the most though. Because after lights out, she’d lay in her cot, staring at the wall or the ceiling, and she’d actually have time to think. To think about how long she’d been here (weeks definitely, soon going on months). How Jane was probably worried sick over her, how the last thing she’d ever said to her mother had been a fight. How no one was coming to rescue them, and the not-unlikely prospect of dying alone in this hellhole, under Monica Rappaccini’s microscope.

She thought about wrapping her hands around that bitch’s throat; fantasized about choking the life out of her, of watching her realize she was dying, and Darcy was killing her.

Darcy tried to turn her thoughts to escaping when that happened. Channel her anger more productively, as her mother and her bubbie would have encouraged. But Darcy was no super genius, no supersoldier, no highly trained spy. All her escape ‘plans’ were so many dreams. And soon enough, in the dark, she would settle and fall asleep.

Then the morning wake up call would come, and the cycle began again. And again. And Again. And again.

* * *

“Subject 1602’s energy absorption abilities are extraordinary. Her body can be exposed to different forms of energy--electric, radioactive, even other Inhuman abilities like 0925’s energy wave--and come out almost no worse for wear.” Monica excitedly shared the test results on the viewscreen. “The cells simply absorb it, transferring it into glucose and the luciferin that causes her bioluminescent ability.”

“Like extreme photosynthesis.” George Tarelton’s eyes danced across the different streams of data. Observing, collecting, hypothesizing. As much has he hated superpowers, this he always loved. Monica was the best lab partner a scientist could ask for.

“Exactly! We ran enough voltage to fry an elephant through her system and she was no worse for wear--besides a bad case of insomnia.”

“Hm, that wouldn’t be a problem for the adaptoid.”

“Fair, however I would still like to do another round of tests before exposing her to the D.A.R.K terrigen.” After all, as there was still relatively high mortality rate of Inhumans exposed to the gas, even with the regenerative formula. And Monica would hate to lose such an interesting toy so soon.

* * *

“You know what, Ulysses, I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?”

  
“What is it that you even  _ do _ ?” Darcy rolled over in her cot, looking out across the way. Another lights out after another day of life as a lab rat. Ember and Michelle had fallen asleep about as soon as their heads had hit the pillow, leaving her and Ulysses as the only ones currently awake. Well, them and whoever was manning the surveillance for their cell block, but Darcy wasn’t entirely convinced that it wasn’t automated at this point. “I mean, you say weird shit, and you make little glowy balls of light, right?”

“That’s it in a nutshell.”

“So, can they even test, really?” Did they even take him back for experiments? Maybe it was the same days that she did, but she thinks maybe they didn’t even do experiments on him. 

He looked over. “Another tough day?”

Darcy sighed. “They put me up against another Inhuman.”

“...did they hurt you?”

“The Inhuman? No. I can absorb it. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still sting though.”

“Well, you’re tough…” Ulysses was probably trying to go for reassuring. He fidgeted with his hands. “My dad used to say ‘life never throws things at us that we can’t handle’.”

Darcy snorted. “Your dad ever been kidnapped and experimented on?”

A slow shake of his head. “No, but…” Ulysses summoned one of those glowing lights. It looked small and fragile there, resting in the palm of his hand. “I’m trying to say that...I think we’ll get through this. We’ll get out of here. Someday.”

Pressing his palm against the glass, he sent the little will-o-the-wisp on a lazy, winding trail across the way to her cell. 

Darcy couldn’t say why she decided to poke it. Curiosity, perhaps. Or an awareness that her own powers would protect her. Either way, the Inhuman poked it like it was a stray bubble that floated near her face. She felt the heat of a candle for a brief moment, before it popped away.

For some reason, that made her smile. She turns back to face the wall. “Goodnight, Ulysses.”

“Sweet dreams.”

* * *

Steve was making breakfast. Standing in front of a stove top, tending to something that smelled deliciously like pancakes. There was a mixing bowl on the counter next to him, and she had no clue where they were supposed to be.

Darcy was dreaming. One of those rare, wonderful kinds that she knew she was dreaming, and could step back and enjoy the ride. 

“Morning, Darce,” he turned and smiled. Not the one he’d give for the fans or the cameras, but the genuine kind for the ones who really knew Steve Rogers, instead of just Captain America. Darcy had missed that smile. 

“Morning,” she shoots back, lazily. As if this was any other morning. She’d even missed how much of an obnoxiously early riser he’d been. He’d told her once that waking up at seven a.m. was “sleeping in”. The absolute nerve on that man.

At least he had the decency to put on a pot of coffee. The origin of such heavenly scents rested in a drip coffee maker underneath the window. Darcy couldn’t quite tell what was on the other side of the window, but it's not like that was important.  


“Pancakes?”

“Yes, please.” Reaching up into the cabinet, she gently grabbed a dark mug with a white SHIELD logo. That was when Darcy noticed it. Her hands were...wrong. In a way she couldn’t quite name. But this was a dream, so why should it matter?

But there was a strangeness in other things. She was taller now, easily a head taller than Steve, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his blonde head. He smelled like soap, aftershave, and something so uniquely  _ Steve  _ that she could never properly describe.

“Hey, I was thinking…” he mused, flipping one of the pancakes over with a sizzle, “with Kamala staying here, I think we could stand to provide a bit more stability for her.” Who? “Maybe we could all make a point of eating supper together some nights.”

“That sounds nice,” Darcy’s mouth moves without her input, and the rest of her body moves back to lean against the counter. “Although we should probably talk to the kid first, see if there’s any food-related stuff we should be aware of. Allergies, how closely she keeps...ah, what’s the word, not kosher but--”

“Halal,” Steve flipped another pancake. “These’ll be ready in a minute.”

Darcy has no idea where the plates, forks or knives are, but Dream!Darcy appears to have that covered. She pulls them out, and as she slips behind Steve, placing them on the counter.  Then, she stops. Darcy has no idea why she stops, but it’s been more than established that she’s not the one behind the wheel here. Steve notices, turns around.

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing,” Dream!Darcy sighs, wrapping her strange, too-long arms lazily around his shoulders. “I just love you, is all.”

“Oh? Just that?” He smiles up at her. She’d forgotten the exact shade of blue in his eyes.

She will wake up soon enough. Dream!Darcy leans down and presses her lips to his, and they both relish the moment. Let her have this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breaking news: Inhuman woman is going to need a damn good therapist after this.
> 
> So, guess who has two thumbs, and probably spent too much time overthinking how glowy powers and an Inhuman prison works? This gal!
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoyed this! Don't worry, we're getting closer to the sweet, sweet Scarlet Hulk goodness.
> 
> If you have any questions, concerns, just want to scream your feelings at me? Comment below and let me know!


	4. One Last Experiment and Two Unlucky Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy continues to have a, shall we say, a very bad time. Also, it turns out that it is, in fact, possible to be a super genius and not think things through all the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of binge drinking, harm being done to children, and depictions of human experimentation.
> 
> Alright *cracks knuckles* let's do this

**_Search Continues for Missing Journalist_ **

_Ben Urich_

_The search for Darcy Lewis, 29, one of the Daily Bugle’s own staff reporters continues in downtown Los Angeles._

_The reporter was reported missing on Tuesday by her friend and former roommate, Doctor Jane Foster. Video from the building’s security cameras shows Lewis leaving her apartment in the late hours of Sunday evening._

_Her wallet and ID were found in a garbage can not two blocks from her apartment building. The LAPD have stated that they are still canvassing the area, and the investigation is still ongoing._

* * *

“It was AIM.”

“Of-fucking-course it was AIM.” Jennifer Walters snapped. Jane didn’t flinch or take the sharp tone personally. They were in Jane’s examination room, as officially Ms. Walters was here for a yearly physical. Therefore whatever was said between them right now would fall under the purview of doctor-patient confidentiality. Less than a week ago, Jane would have consider the move needless and more than a bit paranoid. Now? It felt relatively sensible.

The lawyer’s face shifted. “Sorry, I--I’m more than a bit shaken up by this.”

“Don’t worry, I get it. Darcy was my friend too. Now she’s just...gone.”

Gone, and despite the police’s assurances, was unlikely to be found. After all, Inhumans across the country were disappearing en mass and no one had been able to find any of them. What were the chances of finding one journalist? Albeit one that could glow in the dark.

Helplessness was never a feeling Jane liked. But for the first time in her life, she had no idea what to do. “She could be anywhere in the world, could be going through God knows what and--” she sighed. “And no one’s going to swoop in and save the day here.”

She could only claim a thin acquaintance with the other Avengers. Stark and Banner were off the grid, and the Black Widow was a spy amongst spies. If the US government couldn’t find her, how could they? She’d sure Thor would at least try--if she knew how to contact him. So far staring up at the sky and asking this ‘Heimdall’ person to pass the message along didn’t seem to be doing anything. It wasn’t in her nature to give up, but she was a doctor, not a detective and definitely not a superhero.

Jen huffed, and Jane ran a hand over her face. “So, what are you going to do now?”

“Get my ducks in a row,” the lawyer answered, honest. “In case...well, in case anything happens to me too. But I’m going to keep working on the Pertuz case. 

“Alright,” reaching underneath the examination table, Jane pulled out a sealed manilla envelope. It was thick, but not so thick that it couldn’t be “Darcy gave me back ups of her work on AIM, in case--well, in case what happened...happened.” She swallowed down, hard.

“No, you hold onto it. Darcy trusts you with it for a reason. And who knows, maybe,” Jen tried for a reassuring smile. “Maybe she’ll come back for it someday.”

Jane slipped the manilla envelope back into its hiding place. “That’s a lovely thought.”

A long moment of silence stretched out between them. “Do you know that Bruce Banner is my cousin?”

Jane startled. No. No Darcy had decidedly not mentioned that. 

A small huff of amusement, “Yeah, _that_ Bruce Banner. We grew up together, and after the accident…” Jen shook her head. “All the army told us was that Bruce was a fugitive now, and to contact the authorities if we ever heard from him.” By the thin press of her lips, Jane could guess what the likelihood of that ever was. Probably as unlikely then as it was now. Banner had been granted a measure of clemency for testifying against the other Avengers, but she didn’t think that would matter too much if the Hulk showed his giant green face somewhere. “So imagine my surprise when he shows up to my place a few years later. Never thought I’d see him again unless it was in a casket, but there he was, just...sitting on my doorstep.” A small, fond chuckle. “After a long explanation and a shall we say _colorful_ series of events, I made him promise that Hulk or no Hulk, he’d check in to let me know he was still alive.”

Jane knew what she was doing. Jennifer was, in a roundabout way, trying to give her hope. After all, in such a world as theirs, the definition of ‘impossible’ had shrunk to almost be meaningless.

“When, uh,” the doctor cleared her throat. “When was the last time you heard from him?”

Jen’s face fell. “Two years ago. I traced the call back to a pay phone in Nevada.”

“Well,” Jane sniffled. “If Darcy shows up on my doorstep with a bad case of gamma radiation poisoning, I promise you’re the first person I call.”

* * *

“ _...after a month of searching, no trace of the missing reporter has yet been found. No word yet if the Lewis family is planning any kind of memorial service.”_

Kamala looked over to her parents, sitting on the couch next to her. Ammi’s face was stoic, but she could see the worry in Abu’s eyes. It was a similar look on his face whenever there was a news report of another missing teenager--another missing Inhuman.

The teenager had a sudden thought then, to add the reporter's picture to the memorial at Heroes’ Park. Kamala didn’t know if Darcy was an Inhuman, but she was definitely one of the few people who’d been speaking up for them. 

Five years ago, Darcy Lewis had released a first hand account of the A-Day incident, going into what it was like to live through such an event. How, even while the Avengers had been blamed, they had done everything in their power to stop what was happening and get the civilians out of the blast radius. She’d written about the Khans as an example of people pulling together and helping each other in the aftermath, but in such a way as to honor Abu’s request for privacy.

After the Avengers were disbanded, and AIM rose to power, it seemed Darcy was one of the only people out there questioning the power and influence the company was being given. Questioning the narrative of Inhumans as inherently dangerous. A message that got less and less popular as the years wore on, as too many people seemed content to just let AIM do whatever they wanted. 

  
Darcy had spoken up in the defense of others, and they’d killed her for it.

(Well, maybe not killed. Hopefully not killed. But they definitely did _something_ to her. Something bad.)

* * *

Elizabeth Lewis didn’t drink much. Even living in Wisconsin, a state that literally had a yearly festival dedicated to overindulgence, she only really drank socially. A few beers while watching a game with friends, a glass of wine with dinner, that sort of thing.

She’d only tried to get herself drunk a handful of times. The first was when she was seventeen, over eager to try everything in her parent’s liquor cabinet. A long night desperately clutching to a toilet bowl had dispelled much of the appeal for her.

The second time was eight days after she’d buried her husband. Jacob Lewis was kind, thoughtful, a good father and a supportive husband. Then, a blood vessel exploded in his brain. They’d buried him, and sat shiva. Done all the right, proper things to grieve. Then, on the eighth day, Elizabeth dropped her six-year old daughter off at her aunt’s house, ostensibly for a sleepover with her cousins, but really,so Elizabeth could drain the contents of her own liquor cabinet in peace. Including a bottle of wine her and Jacob had been saving ‘for a special occasion’.

Now, as she watched the news all but declare her only child dead, pouring herself a second glass of scotch, it felt like the right time to try for a third.

* * *

Natasha Romanoff knew Darcy Lewis was in AIM’s custody less than a week after it happened.

She’d been keeping a loose eye on Steve’s sweetheart, even if only out of respect to him. Deep undercover missions weren’t exactly conducive to keeping up with old acquaintances. She hacked Lewis’ phone from time to time to see how things were going, but the majority of the time, Natasha just read her articles.

The crisp, professional AP format did little to hide Darcy’s piss and vinegar, the righteous anger towards injustice was something Steve had liked about her. Natasha liked to read them when being Doctor Belova, AIM researcher, was being particularly draining. Not to mention, for all Darcy must have felt she was yelling at a brick wall, her editorials had been some of the best Resistance recruitment material out there.

Prejudice and ignorance were what allowed AIM to do what they did. The journalist would be an invaluable resource when the time came.

Then, Darcy Lewis disappeared. One of many Inhumans to do so. Yes, Natasha was perfectly aware of the woman’s simple, if beautiful, power set. So when Dr. Belova saw Subject 1602’s power description, she knew who it was. The thought of prison break crossed her mind, but she had to be practical. Because as horrible as it was to say, Natasha just couldn’t justify breaking cover for one woman. But she kept a close eye on the Puente Antigo AIM lab, ready to step in if an opportunity presented itself.

Patience, as they said, was a virtue. One of Natasha’s few.

* * *

They’d placed her up against Ember today. In all her time at the AIM facility, Darcy never actually found out what the teenager’s powers actually were. Whelp, looks like she was going to find out in the least fun way possible.

Standing across from her in the glass box, Ember crossed her arms, her near-perpetual frown deepening. A small group of scientists in hazmat suits were observing them through an observation window nearby, AIM-bots at the ready.

After a few minutes, the voice came over the intercom. “Today’s experiment will see if or how 1602’s energy absorption abilities interact with 5067’s energy construct abilities. 5067, if you’d kindly start.”

“‘If you’d kindly’,” Ember huffed. “The fuck is this, _Bioshock_?” 

Out of the floor rises a simple laptop, open and set to the AIM logo screensaver. Curious, Darcy watches as Ember reaches out towards the device. The screen flickers as energy gathers in the teenager’s palms. In a flash, a gorilla with a necktie appeared, beating its chest and roaring before making a rude gesture towards the observation window.

“Way to go retro,” Darcy complimented, looking the construct up and down. A bit of levity probably wouldn’t hurt. Probably. “I used to spend hours playing _Donkey Kong Country_ in my basement.” She looked back to the perpetually frowning teenager. “You?”

A look of surprise quickly buried underneath adolescent indifference. A shrug. “...Spyro the Dragon.”

“Now, 1602. Please interact with the construct.”

Rolling her eyes, she went alone with it. Reaching out, Darcy gently placed a hand against the great ape, surprised with how solid it feels. “It’s warm.” She remembered hearing about the concept of hard-light constructs in a sci-fi novel or something. Or maybe it was a bad movie. 

“Focus, 1602. Attempt to absorb the construct.”

She really wasn’t sure what they expected her to do. It wasn’t like her powers came with an instruction manual. She placed both hands on it, but nothing changed.

“1602, we need your cooperation for the experiment to succeed.” The scientist reminded. Darcy grimaced, if they didn’t like what she was doing, they’d send in an AIM bot with that one prototype gun that would hurt like a bitch.

Another minute passed. And more nothing.

“1602, comply.”

“I am complying!” She shot back. “I really don’t know what you expect me to--” Darcy stopped. The warmth was stronger now; she could feel it moving up her hand, her wrist, her arm. The same warmth she felt when she was absorbing things. As the feeling spread. Donkey Kong shrunk, and let out one last howl before disappearing completely.

She looked down at her hands. “Whoa…”

Okay, so, she could do that. Actively siphon energy from things, instead of just being like, shockproof and radiation proof. Neat. Might even explain why that entire pack of double A batteries went dead right after she opened them.

Looking up at Ember, she could see the teenager’s eyebrow cocked in mild interest. Maybe even amusement.

“It appears that the subject’s active absorption abilities are related to her emotional state. 5067, feel free to use your constructs much more...aggressively.”

  
“You want me to _attack_ her?” Ember bit out, clearly not happy with the idea. Darcy couldn’t say she was a fan either. “No fucking way.”

“5067, need I remind you of what happens when you sabotage experiments?” Ember froze, failing to hide her fear at whatever the fuck they just threatened her with. Her gaze flickered over to Darcy, but just crossed her arms again, all defiance.

No. No way she was having this kid take a beating or whatever for her.

“Just do it Ember, I’ll be fine.”

Surprise, then apology flickered over the teenager’s face before she let out another ‘ugh’ of disgust. Uncrossing her arms, she once more reached out towards the monitor.

Minecraft-like blocks suddenly sprung to life, hovering in the air. Ember moved her arm in a pitching motion, and the blocks starting coming at her. Darcy dove to the left as they breezed past her. Only after catching her breath did she realize the kid had purposefully swung wide.

The dreaded click of the intercom. “1602, you need to cooperate as well. We are here to test the limits of your abilities after all. Again.”

Ember glowers up at the observation window. Darcy joins her, not afraid to raise a middle finger as three more blocks come sailing at her. Pain blossoms across her hip, shoulder, and stomach in quick succession as she's knocked to the floor.

* * *

Darcy felt as sore as she looked, patches of her skin now bruised with an ugly yellow that will turn purple soon enough. She’s up to twenty-five that she can see, at least, when she shaves her armpit with the small safety razor. 

She feels eyes on her and glancing over confirms it. Ember quickly looks away, and continues with her own washing. Darcy does the same. After all, it was hard enough doing this with the AIM-bot in the corner and the shock collar around her neck. The planned ‘I’m fine’ dies on her tongue. That was obviously a lie.

“Your powers are pretty cool,” Darcy offers up instead. “Can you make it from any kind of electricity or…?”

She sees Ember shrug from the corner of her eye. “More like from screen pixels, I think. I don’t know why.”

“Well, it’s pretty cool. How’d you figure out you could do that?”

A snort. “Some assholes in my game club got butthurt I was better than them and got me kicked out. Got mad. Taught them one hell of a lesson before the bots showed up.”

Darcy snickered. “That’s way cooler than mine.”

“Which is…?”

“Got up in the middle of the night to pee. Nearly had a heart attack when I saw myself in the mirror.”

That earns her a snicker from the moody teen. Darcy can’t help the small smile as they both go back to focusing on their showers. Little victories. The smile morphed into a grimace as the bruises on her ribcage began to throb.

* * *

Monica leaned back in her chair, observing the footage of 5067’s constructs repeatedly striking 1602. It seemed in this specific case, prolonged skin contact was required to absorb the constructs enough to dissipate them. How much conscious control she had over the rate of absorption was still unclear, but there appeared to be at least a correlation to 1602’s emotional state. Interesting in its own way, but not enough to pursue further inquiry, in Monica’s opinion. 

When the test footage ended, she looked over to her fellow scientist. “I think it’s time to map 1602’s powers to the adaptoid.” Of that, she was certain, but...

“What is it?” George inquired. 

“I’m just concerned. 1602’s powers need an energy source to be activated” she taps her fingers against the back of her tablet. “I’m concerned that if we simply expose her to D.A.R.K terrigen…”

“Then they may not copy correctly, if at all.” He leaned back in his chair. “In this case, we need an energy that she can be exposed to without disrupting the terrigen.” The leader of the AIM tapped his fingers against the armrest, balancing dozens of equations and chemical reactions in a matter of moments. Monica sometimes marveled at the true supercomputer he was becoming. “Gamma energy would work best for our purposes.”

Monica couldn’t help but smile, just a bit. “I agree completely.”

* * *

It was five days before Darcy was once more summoned to the lab. The bruises had started to fade by then, and to her relief there wasn’t another Inhuman there waiting for her. Instead, she received an injection in the arm that they refused to explain. The cage shut around her a monitor placed outside flickered to life. Dark hair, smug smile, it seemed Dr. Rappacinni was Skyping in for this particular experiment.

“Ugh, what do you want, Monica?”

“What I’ve always wanted, Darcy: a cure. Now, you’re going to help us find it.”

“What the hell are you--” That was when the gas started flooding the chamber. Purple, thick, and smelled of something sharp yet sweet, like the honey that attracts the fly to the pitcherplant. 

Darcy backed up as far as she could, pressing her body into the corner of the cell. But it was no use. The gas did as physics demanded, swirling towards her as quick and inevitable as death.

It was like being stung by a thousand bees as you slowly choked to death. Darcy coughed, and closed her eyes against the pain. She slammed the meat of her hand against the glass. 

Nothing changed. She didn’t expect it to. But she refused to just curl up and die. 

Darcy kept slamming her fist against the glass. Over. And over. And over again. The pain in her hand was drowned out by the pain in the rest of her body. The stings became knives, cutting away at her nerves, slicing the muscle from the bone. If Darcy had the presence of mind to think, she would wonder if this was what being skinned alive felt like.

As her world began to go dark, she registered the sound of breaking glass.

* * *

Here’s the thing. AIM just two very, _very_ big mistakes today. One was simply a matter of math.

The problem is as follows:

Energy absorption powers plus gamma radiation plus regenerative formula equals ‘X’

Regenerative formula equals blood gathered and refined from a super-soldier. 

Therefore ‘X’ equals a large, red hand reaching out and crushing an AIM-bot’s head like it was so much paper mache.

The second? They hadn’t killed Darcy Lewis when they had the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles* YA DONE GOOFED AIM
> 
> So, the FABULOUS Scarlet Hulk finally makes her debut! If you have any thoughts/questions/concerns or just want to scream your feelings at me, comment below and let me know!


	5. New Friends and Broken Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy improvs a prison break and makes a few new friends along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings, just enjoy :) I personally recommend listening to Jailhouse Rock by Elvis Presley
> 
> Also some easter eggs I forgot to point out in the last two chapters  
> Darcy’s prison number 1602 is a reference to Marvel 1602, a limited series run that basically translates the Marvel universe into the Elizabethan era. It was in my high school library and one of the first actual Marvel comics books I’d ever read.
> 
> Ember Quade is a canonical Inhuman character from the comics. She appeared as the main antagonist in the Marvel Rising tie-in comic series which starred Kamala Khan and Doreen Green, aka Squirrel Girl.
> 
> Ben Urich is another Daily Bugle reporter, and one that most commonly appears in Daredevil stories. 
> 
> Now, onto the show!

Darcy coughed and staggered as she stepped out of the testing chamber, staring down at the AIM-bot’s head in her hand. Its head crushed like a tin can, it’s body had gone limp like a particularly heavy ragdoll.

It clattered to the ground as she stared at her hands. Her large, red hands.

“The fuck?”

Distantly, the journalist could make out the sounds of an alarm, something flashing and a demanding voice coming over the intercom. Darcy’s attention was at the broken shock collar lying at her feet, so much scrap metal among the shattered glass she hadn’t realized she’d been standing on. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to look away from it.

“Begin containment procedures, threat level unknown.” Cold metal hands latched around her arms, and she’s staring into the face of two AIM-bots.

Darcy returns to herself with a yelp, flinging out her arms in a half-panicked flail. The adaptoids flew across the room and crashed into the wall almost cartoonishly. Probably hilarious, but Darcy hardly noticed. She was too busy sprinting for the door.

Not able to get there before the door closed, and unable to stop herself in time, Darcy slammed into the plate metal barrier. Wait. Slammed _through_ the plate metal barrier. Instead of breaking her face, the metal had warped around her like so much plastic wrap.

Okay, so. She’s like, super strong. And super durable. Neat. 

* * *

It was a quiet day in the Ant Hill. Normally quiet meant good. Quiet meant safe. However, to one Amadeus Cho, boy genius, quiet also meant boring. He and his sister Maddie had joined up with the Resistance because, well, because it was the right thing to do. Still, despite what pop culture would have you believe, being a member of an underground resistance movement was a lot less daring heroics and a lot more sitting around waiting for things to happen.

So, in the face of said boredom, Amadeus was sucking on a lollipop and listening to trashy pop music from the early 2000’s as he looked over Inhuman mitochondrial DNA samples. He was in the middle of that when the message alert chimed, and a familiar screen name popped up.

**_Tiny Dancer: There’s a situation in Puente Antigo_ **

That window suddenly opened to a livestream of a video feed. Amadeus’s eyebrows shot up as the lollipop nearly fell out of his mouth. “Uh...Dr. Pym?” Amadeus called up from his laptop. “You know that one small AIM lab by Puente Antigo?”

“The one in New Mexico?” The ex-superhero and current Resistance leader called back, not even looking up from his microscope. “What about it?”

“You’re gonna want to take a look at this. Tiny Dancer intercepted a security alert--the Inhumans there are breaking out.”

“I’m sorry, _what_?” That got his attention. Hank Pym came over to Amadeus’ corner, and the man’s eyes widened as he took in the scene playing out in front of the camera.

“The Inhumans. They’re escaping.” A flash of color across the camera footage. “And you are not gonna believe who’s helping them.”

* * *

It wasn’t often someone could define the exact moment their life went to hell. Michelle Roark could. In fact, she’d say most people stuck in here could. A-Day.

She wasn’t even that big of an Avengers fan, really. Her kid cousin had just won tickets from some kind of contest and had invited her to come along. Michelle, fresh out of high school and who’d never been to California before, figured why not. 

Then, well, _everything_ happened. She’d spent three days in a cramped tent with her aunt and cousin before any of the airports opened back up and they could go home. Just when she thought she could put the whole mess behind her, so suddenly transformed into a cocoon in the middle of Intro to Calculus. By coincidence or grand cosmic joke, Ulysses had been in the very same class, and started transforming alongside her.

She’d hatched in an AIM facility with wings, tail, and claws, not to mention the dozen or so scientists who wanted to poke and prod and test. All in the name of a cure. That had been four years ago.

Silver linings, they had a decent library. She was on her third re-read of _The Count of Monte Christo_ , mindful of her claws as she carefully turned each page. In the corner, Ulysses was trying to make one of those houses out of playing cards. Every time she’d been in the rec room, he was too. As his powers mainly consisted of creating those little lights, Michelle guessed AIM had gotten bored of him after a few months. She still got called to the labs once in awhile, but those times were blessedly few and far between.

He was working on the second level of playing cards when Ulysses’ head snapped up. A familiar distant look in his eye. Uh-oh.

“She’s coming,” he informed in a dull monotone, turning towards the locked and guarded door as his house of cards crumbled.

The two adaptoids in the room suddenly lit up. “Priority alert--please remain where you are. The situation will be resolved shortly.”

“What situation?” Michelle placed her book down, and tapped Ulysses on the shoulder. He came out of it, blinking and clutching his head. 

One adaptoid stepped outside the door, and the other stayed in the room with them. As the door opened, she could hear a blaring of alarms, and distant crashing sounds. Then it closed, and the world was silent.

A minute passed. And then another. Then another. Ulysses squeezed her shoulder. 

The alarms blared to life again as the door crashed open, the thick metal kicked down as if in an action movie. It slammed into the ground like a crack of doom. A looming figure stood in the doorway, grabbing the adaptoid by the neck, and snapping it with the ominous crack of metal and plastic.

Michelle could make out the broken pieces of the other one on the other side of the door. Her tail bristled, ready to let loose with the quills she could produce from there.

“Hey, hey! It’s me.” 

Michelle blinked once, twice. “Darcy?” She relaxed her tail. Now easily seven feet tall, with dark red skin, wild black hair and her voice an octave or so lower, but definitely Darcy. “The hell happened to you?” She looked her up in down, taking in the bulging muscles and the half shredded remains of the AIM uniform. Damn, was that a six pack?

“I have no idea! I was in the lab and there was this glowy thing, and they stuck me in a gas chamber and now I’m super-strong and stuff!”

“Wait _gas chamber_?!”

“Yeah, it was super fucked up and I kinda thought I was gonna die. But moving on: who’s up for a jailbreak?”

* * *

After gently prying off the shock collars, the next course of action was to get Ember from one of the labs and try to make their way up to the main control room.

“What makes you think there’s a control room?” Michelle questioned, sending out a flurry of quills at an approaching adaptoid. The robot went down, now little more than a particularly expensive pin cushion.

“There’s always a main control room,” Darcy explained, ripping one adaptoid’s arm off to beat the others off with. Having super strength was coming in _really_ handy. “Ember’s good with computer stuff. We find her, we have a better chance of getting all the other Inhumans out of here.”

“She’s in laboratory three,” Ulysses informed. “It should be down the hall at the last right. But they’ve barricaded the doors.”

Darcy isn’t sure where he’s getting that information, but she’ll take it. “Whelp, then it’s convenient that I’m getting really good at kicking down doors.”

* * *

The doors to laboratory three had been barricaded in. The scientists inside had purposefully jammed the door’s internal mechanisms, essentially turning the door into little more than a half ton slap of solid steel. This also meant that they’d essentially locked themselves in, but given the reports coming in from elsewhere in the facility, they’d been unsure of what else to do to defend themselves. The reports on the mysterious figure wrecking through had been muddled and inconsistent. Sometimes is was one, sometimes three. But it was strong, fast, and nothing had succeeded in stopping it so far.

Ember was still in the glass containment cell, privy to none of this information. All she knew was that all She heard the alarms blaring, and had noticed how scared the scientists had been as the AIM-bots were sent away. They’d hidden up, as per usual, in the above observation area with the tinted glass. Her hands balled into the fists as she tried to prepare for whatever the hell was coming.

The creaking groan of metal, and that doors were pried open with a loud clang. Standing there was a giant woman, strong, and red, and hauntingly familiar. She looked over to Ember and smiled. “Hey, kid.”

Glass broke, and laser fire started to rain down from the observation deck above. The lasers dissipated against the class of the containment cell, and the red giant’s skin all the same. If anything, the woman only looked annoyed. The giant leapt, and seemed to almost fly into the observation room. 

“Stop. It. _Now.”_ Came the demand. A few more shots, but then all laserfire quieted. Ember smiled as she imagined the assholes up there pissing themselves in fear. A clanging as something was thrown out the broken window. The guns, broken in half like so much twigs. 

Ember had no idea who this person was, but she already knew they were _awesome._ From the corner of her eye, she could see Ulysses and Michelle now coming in through the pried door. 

The mysterious hero leaped down once more, holding up one of the hazmat science people up by the collar, slamming them against the glass of the containment cell.

“You’re gonna let this kid out. _Now._ ”

  
“E-emergency protocol is in order. I don’t have the clearance.”

  
“Well, that’s disappointing.” Still holding the AIM scientist up with one hand like a misbehaving puppy, she looked over to Ember. “You’re gonna want to stand back.”

“Okay?” The teenager scrambled to the far side of the cell. And it’s a good thing she did too, as after a moment, the red woman flicked a single finger across the glass, and the whole wall shattered. Thick, bulletproof glass became a shower of glass shards, falling to the ground like a symphony of broken plates and shattered bottles.

Ember tentatively stepped across the sea of glass shards, glad for once, for the AIM-issued footwear.

Michelle gave her a big hug. “Don’t worry, it’s Darcy.”

Wow. That’s--wow. Ember didn’t have the time to even start processing that before the woman in question started talking again.

“Mind pointing us towards the main control room?”

“Take the staff elevator up three floors, take a left, fifth door on your right with the keypad. The code’s the first five digits of pi! Oh, please don’t kill me.”

Darcy looked over her shoulder. “31415,” Ulysses informed. She looked back and smiled. 

“Much obliged. I recommend a career change and some better life choices, m’kay?” She looked back up to the observation room, and the three tentative heads that suddenly ducked back down. “And that goes for all of you.”

With that, she let go. The beekeeper couldn’t have run away faster if the hounds of hell were on his heels. Darcy once more turned her attention to Ember. “Ready to get out of here?”

Ember couldn’t help but smile as she said: “Born ready.” Those red hands were gentle as she pried the collar from her neck.

* * *

They made it to the main control room with significantly less fuss. Maybe that meant she’d ripped through most of the on-site security system (she’d lost count after the first twelve AIM-bots, to be honest) or maybe they were gathering up for a big attack. Still, once they were inside the room Darcy kept her back against the door. As the only way to get in, anything after them would have to go through her first.

Like most security rooms, there were several monitors in place to observe multiple areas at once. Unfortunately, all of them were now turned off, with only a single desktop at the center of it all. No one else was in here. 

A cup of coffee was set next to the keyboard, still hot. Ember sat down in the chair and booted up the system. Then, a quick noise of frustration. “Crap. They must have known we were coming. They locked us out of the system.”

“Can’t you like, hack it or something?” Michelle asked. “You always talk about how good you are with computer stuff.”

Ember shot her winged cellmate a glare. “Modding Skyrim is completely different from hacking a prison security system. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

On the screen was a single password bar. Ember flipped over the keyboard and mousepad, hoping for a conveniently placed sticky note with the password scrawled on.

“The password is AFV2762005.” Ulysses said, his eyes growing distant for a moment before coming back to himself.

“And you know that how?” Ember questioned.  
  


“Just...give it a shot. He keeps saying things that turn out to be true today,” Darcy sighed. “And it’s not like we can just guess someone’s birthday or favorite pet.”

With a shrug, the teen gave it a shot. “Okay, we’re in.” The other monitors sprang to life, displaying different hallways, laboratories--and prison cells. Darcy was right, they weren’t alone. She counted at least seven other Inhumans that she could see.

“Please tell me there’s a conveniently labeled ‘let everyone out’ button,” Ulysses asked.

“No, but I’ll keep looking.”

“Aren’t you like, a Hulk now?” Michelle posited. “Can’t you just go around and punch everyone out?”

“Technically yes, but it’s safer for us to stay together, and it’ll take too much time for me to free each Inhuman individually.”

Ulysses perked up. “Drones are going to come through the ventilation system.”

A buzzing noise as two burst through the vents. Darcy crushed one between her hands and Michelle got the other with one of her quills. She was getting really good at aiming those.

“Okay, we are really going to have to talk about how you keep knowing crap like this.”

Further discussion was interrupted when something popped up on screen. Lines of code, followed by a screen name.

**_Tiny Dancer: Nice work out there_ **

**_Tiny Dancer: Maybe I can help_ **

Suddenly, every single cell door on screen opened. The Inhuman prisoners were as clearly surprised as they were, some tentatively stepping foot outside, others clearly waiting a moment or two to see if this was some kind of trick.

Darcy didn’t blame them. She was a bit suspicious as well.

**_Tiny Dancer: Get everyone outside the building and there will be a getaway waiting for you all._ **

Ember scoffed. “So...we’re just supposed to trust this random stranger we just met on the internet?”

“Well, I’m certainly open to alternatives” Darcy offered.

“They did just help us.” Ulysses pointed out.

“This could be a trick,” Michelle reminded. “Get us all in one place so they can take us all out at once.” The journalist couldn’t help but think of the multiple defense contracts AIM had with the military. Some of them probably involve drones and missiles and the like. It wouldn’t be far-fetched.

“Getting outside should be the next step. We get everyone together, and even if Tiny Dancer is too good to be true we can probably just steal someone’s car or something and figure it out from there. For now, let’s at least pretend to play ball.”

Ember nodded and typed out: **_Thanks. This ride have a name?_ **

**_Tiny Dancer: Np. Theo, and you’ll know him when you see him. AIM is incoming with reinforcements so I recommend moving quickly_ **

With that, the window closed.

Darcy paused. “This thing hooked up to the PA system?”

* * *

Rowan Trent had been in AIM’s custody for fifty-seven meals. Well, fifty-seven ish. The teenage girl had been trying to keep track in her head, and it was hard in a white featureless room with one door and no windows. It was where she ate, slept and bathed for however long she’d been here; her powers granted her a stay in solitary. Which, yeah made sense but still _sucked._

Which was why she was so confused when the door suddenly opened. But no one came through, no adaptoids. No scientists. No one. She was still waiting for the ‘gotcha’ when a voice came over the speaker.

_“To all, Inhumans--this is Darcy Lewis. You probably don’t know me, and I don’t really know many of you. Maybe you were like me, someone who hid their powers for as long as they could. Maybe you came to AIM willingly, looking to be cured. Maybe you hope that even with all it is they’ve done to you, to all of us, they still are._

_But I’m not willing to bet on that anymore. I’ve been offered a chance to get out of here, and I’m taking it. I can’t promise that even if we do get away, we’re suddenly going to be safe. We’re probably going to be spending a long time looking over our shoulders._

_  
_ _To those who want to take that chance, meet up in the rec room on level three. For those who don’t, and would rather play it safe and stay--I can understand that, and I’m not going to be forcing anyone to come with me that doesn’t want to. All I offer is a choice--which is more than AIM has given any of us in a long time.”_

Rowan didn’t need to be told twice. Although, she did run into a slight problem--as she hadn’t been let out of her cell since she got here, she really had no idea where this ‘rec room’ was.

After about ten minutes of walking around looking for the elevator, the ceiling fell in. A flurry of red and white, a large scarlet figure wrestling with three adaptoids, the bots having grabbed into her body. The stranger managed to pick hold of one and throw it at the nearby wall, so hard that it actually went _through_.

The second one, she grabbed by the ankle, and smashed it down onto the ground, sparks shooting out of it rather ominously. The third? Well, the red badass took the second one’s body and used it to club the third one until they both stopped moving.

Then with a sigh, she rose to her feet, and suddenly noticed Rowan. “Oh, uh, hi! I’m Darcy, from the intercom, earlier.”

The teenager just nodded, her brain catching up to the situation. “I’m Rowan. And you’re really tall.”

“Oh!” the woman blinked. She stared for a moment before making a fist, and made a clockwise circle on her chest. “Sorry, no...fingerspelling,” she attempted to sign out.

Well, a little sign language was better than nothing. With a sigh, Rowan drew an X over her throat, then pointed to her ear with a sharp nod.

“Oh, so you can hear, you just can’t talk?”

“Yes,” Rowan confirmed, both nodding and making the sign.

That was when they both heard footsteps, and saw the AIM-bot from earlier appear from the hole in the wall. It was sparking, and clearly damaged,

Rowan decided she’d get this.

Dark matter twisted around her hands, forming into two a small circles. She teleported behind the aim-bot, and used that darkness to decapitate it. Her blades slashed through the metal like a hot knife through butter. 

“What--” the red woman blinked as Rowan was once more next to her.

‘Dark matter manipulation and short-range matter displacement’ was what she’d heard her powers called. “I can teleport and make shadow blades that can cut stuff.”

“Oh! I have no idea what you just signed, but it looks really cool.” She looks up through the hole she’d knocked through the ceiling. “Hey, could you teleport me back up? I fell through five...ish stories and I’m not eager to take the stairs.” Rowan nodded

Taking Darcy’s hand, Rowan looked up, aimed, and smiled.

* * *

Teleporting was fucking weird, Darcy had to say. One second, she’s there, and the space between blinks she’s back where she went through the floor.

The kid patted her arm while the others stared. “What the--” Ember started, before noticing the new girl.

“Everyone okay? Darcy asked, getting back to the upper level. Oh, wait. “Can I take your collar off?” The kid nodded, and she pried it off no problem. 

“Rowan?” Michelle asked, clearly off guard. The girl blinked, surprised, and signed something back.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good, I’m good.” With a watery smile, Michelle brought the younger girl in for a hug. 

Darcy blinked, for some reason feeling wrong-footed. “I, uh, take it you guys know each other.”

“Yeah,” Michelle smiled, reluctant to let go. “This is Rowan Trent, my kid cousin.”

Darcy’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two. Rowan had olive skin, brown eyes, and short mousy brown hair, not sharing much of an obvious family resemblance to the dark skinned Michelle.

But that was, quite honestly none of her business. “Glad for the happy reunion, but we need to keep moving.”

* * *

There were seven Inhumans in the waiting room by the time Darcy’s group got there, bringing the total up to twelve. Twelve Inhumans had been held in this facility, and now all twelve wanted out. Nice. A few flinched back as they entered, taken off guard by her. Darcy decided to just breeze right past that.

“First of all, I just wanted to say how glad I am you all decided to take this jump with me. I cannot commend you enough for how brave you’re being, and I’m going to need everyone to try and hold onto that going forward, alright? We’re gonna have to rely on each other from here on out.” Not exactly a Captain America grade inspiring speech, but at least it garnered a few nods, and some people looked a bit more confident. “Alright, now, quick question, does anyone here know how to hotwire a car?” Everyone glanced around and after a beat Rowan raised her hand. Darcy liked the kid already.

“Great. Alright, so the general plan is the direct approach. AIM knows this facility way better than any of us do, so they’ll know where they can trap us or create a bottleneck. So instead, we’re gonna take a more direct route.”

“Meaning?” Michelle prompted with a smile. Darcy went outside, and with a single punch, opened up a hole in the wall.

“Meaning that I keep making holes until we hit daylight. From there, we look for a vehicles that we can fit as many people as possible into, and we get out of here. After all, people work here, so they’d need to commute, so that means there’s probably a parking lot or something.” The next step would obviously be figuring out where they should drive _to._ But, well, she was still kind of working on that 

“Really, that’s your big plan?” One of them, a man in his mid-forties asked, looking unsure.

Darcy sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Listen buddy, half an hour ago I spontaneously hit a growth spurt and took advantage of an opportunity. I am playing this by ear. Now, if this changes anything, and anyone wants to stay behind--”

A chorus of emphatic ‘no’s cut her off. “Excellent. Now, let’s do this.”

She took a running start, and barreled her way through the next wall. And the one after that, after she couldn’t stop herself in time.

She turned back to the gathered Inhumans, now a few yards away. “Oh _yeah_!”

That ‘bamf’ noise, and Rowan was beside her with a questioning expression.

Darcy fidgeted, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Like, y’know the Kool-Aid guy?”

* * *

The air was dry, hot, and wonderful. Darcy breathed deep, and stepped out into the harsh desert sun. It was mid-day, far as she could tell.

The others followed behind her, stepping through the wall one at a time. Darcy did a quick headcount. Yep, all twelve accounted for.

Ember had come up the rear, creating constructs to block others from following them. As she came through last, Darcy scanned the horizon. A few dozen yards out was a chain link fence, and from there--well, the dark bumps on the horizon could be cars. Hopefully. 

“This way.” She started into a light jog, careful so the others could keep up with her, pausing only at the chain link fence. It ripped open easily. She felt a slight buzz in her hands, and made the hole a bit bigger. “Careful, it’s electrified.”

“Don’t worry,” Ulysses informed as he stepped through. “Our ride will be here soon enough.”

Darcy didn’t even bother trying to decode that. “Heads up!” Ember called, and Darcy turned to see the AIM drones heading their way. Hopefully this was the best they could muster.

“Michelle?”

“On it.” Red wings flared and lifted the woman up into the air. Of the four that approached, two were impaled with Michelle’s quills, one sliced in half by Rowan’s cool slicey power. The last made the mistake of getting too close to Darcy, who crushed it between her hands like an annoying fly.

As it crumbled to the ground, the journalist could start to make out a distortion in the air not far away. Not like a mirage, but like the ripples on a calm pond. She held up a hand, and the group stopped. “Be ready.”

She placed herself right in front of the others, ready for whatever happened. As the distortion grew, she could start to hear something. Something that she only heard when she’d attended a Blue Angels show as a kid. Something was flying in, and was going to get here quick. Something bigger than drones.

The distortion swirled into something bright, a circular thing of light, about six feet tall. A man steps through. He has blue skin, and is wearing a dark hoodie over a familiar orange jumpsuit. A Resistance symbol is on the sweatshirt. “Need a ride?” He asks.

Hope and fear swirl in Darcy’s gut. It was almost too good to be true. The engine was getting louder, closer. No guarantee of it being friendly--but no guarantee with this one either.

A few people took a step forward, as if they wanted to bolt through here and now. But they stopped, and everyone looked to Darcy. She straightened her spine, trying to look as big as possible as she looked down on him. “Who are you?”

He swallows, a bit spooked, but stands his ground. “I’m Theo. Tiny Dancer said you guys need a ride.”

It would be a few seconds before the jet or whatever would be on them. Darcy lets her light flare, and Theo flinched. “If this is some kind of trick, I’m gonna be _really_ pissed.” She turns back to her people as the jet arrives, an AIM dropship now hovering over their heads.

“Everyone through, now!” She ordered as something lowered from the undercarriage. From the corner of her eye she can see the others racing through as she hears the cinematic ratta-tat-tat of a machine gun, and feel light flicks against her skin.

Crushed bullet casings litter the ground as Darcy takes up the rear, backing up step by step into the portal as her people quickly get through. In a few steps, her feet touch stone as the temperature suddenly drops. She’s on the other side of the portal, Theo at her side as he closes it with a quick clap.

She turns. The first thing she does is take a quick headcount of her people. Michelle, Ember, Ulysses...five, seven, eleven. Counting herself. Twelve. They were all here, and everyone looked okay, if a bit rattled.

A heavy sigh of relief, as she looks around. The first thing Darcy noticed was the rocks. Wherever they were, it seemed to be carved out of some kind of cave. The second thing was all the industrial equipment, scaffolding, raised platforms, and monitors with some kind of logo on it.

The third thing was the people. About another dozen or so people scattered throughout the cave. Everyone staring right at them.

“Uh...hi?” Darcy tried, unsure of what else to say.

That was when someone started clapping. Then two people then, three. People were smiling at them, a few even cheering.

“Holy crap!”

“That was amazing!”

“Who are you? Are you a Hulk?”

“Way to stick it to AIM you guys!”

Seriously, people were clapping like they’d just won the world series. Darcy shifted her weight, unsure of how to react to any of this. Glancing over to Michelle, who had her arms crossed and was standing in front of Rowan, who just seemed pleased as punch. 

As the cheering died down, someone started to approach them. A caucasian man who looked to be in his mid forties with thin dark blonde hair and a scruffy beard. He approached them slowly, projecting calm.

“My name is Dr. Hank Pym and it is my genuine pleasure to see you all here, safe. Welcome to the Ant Hill.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha an actual professional spy at seeing Darcy transform through the video feed: "What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fu--"
> 
> :) I hope this makes up for the cliffhanger last chapter
> 
> Anywho, Rowan Trent is my own OC, and one that I've been wanting to introduce for a little bit. I've realized that I needed to start branching out in what kind of characters I write, and this is my attempt to start to rectify that. However, as I am not mute, nor do I have any kind of disability that necessitates me to use sign language in my everyday life, I am aware that I can, and probably will make mistakes. All I ask is for patience, and that when I make mistakes you let me know right away so I can correct them. Thank you.
> 
> If you have any comments, questions, or just want to scream your feelings at me, please take the time to read and review!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story, comment below if you did and give that kudos button some love!


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